Licensed Killer
by AngelOfStory
Summary: Dean's a sniper basically, Dean is 25, Sam is 17, (Different age difference than show). Also, it's on earth but a different earth because I didn't want to use actual names of placed in case I might offend anyone. Just go along with it.
1. Chapter 1

**Dean's a sniper basically, Dean is 25, Sam is 17, (Different age difference than show). Also, it's on earth but a different earth because I didn't want to use actual names of placed in case I might offend anyone. Just go along with it. This fanfic is 5 chapters in so I will update every other day or so until we catch up.**

* * *

Shit.

He was late.

 _Again._

Dean rushed through the crowded streets of Chalaine, trying to fix his tie. Zachariah would kill him if he was late to this meeting. He was the main asset for this case and there was no way he would remain there if he was late.

He pushed past walkers and sped in front of cars, racing to the towering building in front of him. Once he reached the doors, he pushed them open and stopped in the entryway. He took a moment to fix his rumpled coat and smooth out his hair.

Once he thought he was presentable enough, he stepped forward to the elevators and rode up to the penthouse. The moment of silence in the elevator allowed Dean to catch his breath and sort through his thoughts.

He wondered who the target would be, someone of high importance most likely. He ran through the reasons he would be brought in on such a high-level case like this one. Politics, personal vendetta, the list could go on.

A little 'ding' drove Dean from his thoughts and he stepped off the elevator. He watched the doors close behind him before walking carefully towards the boardroom. No one else was about on this level, indicating everyone was already there or he was early.

It was most likely not the latter. Dean had a reputation of being only slightly late to briefing meetings like this one. He also had a reputation of sleeping with anyone and everyone, although that one wasn't as true.

His eyes scanned the room numbers as he passed them, looking for lucky number 27. Once he found himself in front of the room, he placed his thumb gently against the keypad. "Welcome, D. Winchester." The woman's robot voice was thundering compared to the quiet hallway.

Dean smirked to himself, nodded a greeting to the computer as his hand came up to flatten his tie again. His hand rose to knock on the wooden door, but before he got the chance, it swung open.

There, greeting him, was the balding white-haired man. He was short compared to Dean, and had really creepy beady eyes. Dean stood straighter, looking forward and waiting for Zachariah to say something to him.

"Ah! So you decided to show up! Well, all's well that ends well I suppose!" The man's nasally voice said. Dean nodded his acknowledgement and followed the shrimp of a man into the room.

Dean took the chair to the right of the head of the table, where Zachariah would be sitting. While he hated sitting this close and smelling the whiskey on the man, it showed respect and power to the clients.

He settled into the office chair and waited for the meeting to start. Once Zachariah was done shifting around in his own squeaky chair, he looked up. Clapping his hands together, the lights dimmed and the screen to the left of Dean shone brightly on the wall.

Behind Zachariah, a man appeared from the lights. The picture was semi-blurry and out of focus but Dean could tell who the intended target was. It was a man, roughly Dean's height and age, who was wearing a long brown trench coat.

His dark brown hair stuck up in all directions and he looked like a deer in headlights. He obviously had no idea he was being photographed. Dean took a moment to study the man's figures before he waited for Zachariah to continue.

After a moment of complete silence, Zachariah spoke, "The target's name is Castiel Novak, male, age 32. He is the CEO of a company that runs an underground army operations group. Until recently, he was working with us. But lately, Mr. Novak has decided to take a different route and start training his troops to fight against us, instead of with us.

"He is the best in the business, trained sniper and an unbelievable fighter. He was chosen to train new troops so that they would be at their very best when the war with Zahway was at its worst. He has personally trained thousands of men and was one of our best employees. However, since he has decided to take his troops and declare war against us, we must take him out.

"If he is put down, we will once again have control over the troops. Agent Winchester will be the one to do the task. Novak will be arriving in Rhike in two days, from a flight T-3903. Once Novak is in his hotel suite, Agent Winchester will take him out. He is expected to stay in the Sante Lee Hotel, and has made reservations for room 549.

"It is crucial that Novak is taken out before the troops can get too rallied to fight against us. If that happens, I fear we may have our own war at hand, instead of that with Zahway." After finishing his small speech, Zachariah turned to Dean and talked to him directly.

"The sniper you will be using is in the bag behind me, it has been specially made for this mission. It is a .390 with a silencer and scope attached to it. While it should only take you one shot to complete the mission, you have enough ammo to take out a small group of men.

"You were chosen because you have never worked with Novak, nor has he ever seen you. You are our best sniper so we trust that you will not let us down. A plane will be waiting for you at the airport to take you to Rhike in approximately 2 hours. Pack only what you need, nothing more. Good luck."

Zachariah seemed finished with Dean, so Dean nodded and took his leave. Once in the hallway he let out the breath he had been holding. This Novak guy that he is supposed to be taking down is an expert on weapons and fighting. Dean would have to be extremely careful in order to not let Novak know he was being followed or marked as a target.

The bag he was now holding was heavy, but not too much that he felt it would weigh Dean down. Hopefully the sniper they gave him would be good enough for this, because if not, and he missed because of some miscalculations, he may never get a chance to take Novak out again.

He made his way to the elevator with the bag, running ideas through his head. Once he was in Rhike, he would have to stake out the best possible angle for doing the job. Hopefully there were buildings higher than the hotel so that he would have a rooftop as a vantage point.

If not, he would have to do it manually, setting up in a car and shooting at an upwards angle. That always sucked, he much preferred downwards. He walked through the lobby, turning over every possible outcome in his head.

He didn't know how long he would be in Rhike, but it would most likely be more than two days. He should go home and pack a duffle. He would have to call Sam to let him know too, hopefully Sam could find somewhere to stay in such short noticed.

Dean hailed a cab and carefully set the bag down next to him. He gave his address to the cabbie and leaned back against the seat. It was going to be a long plane trip the Rhike, maybe he should pick up some sleeping meds for the ride? Dean hated planes. A lot.

The ride to his house seemed to take forever, but finally he arrived. He thanked the cabbie, tipped him a generous amount and grabbed his bag. He looked up at the apartment building in front of him and heaved a sigh.

After closing his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to relax, Dean took a step towards the door. He always hated when he had to go away on business. He never liked to leave Sammy all alone, knew he would never get over that fear. Sam was old enough to take care of himself, he knew that, but when he was away on business he couldn't check up on him.

He hated that he wouldn't be able to see or speak to Sam for a few days, knowing a lot could go wrong. He was very protective of his little brother, ever since Dean was the one being targeted by a covert business corporation.

He was surprised they had the balls to come after him, but them also targeting Sam made Dean go into a blind rage. He ended up putting all three men in the hospital, and got the entire corporation shut down for good. He knew his job was dangerous, knew how dangerous it could be for him, but hated when it would come back to Sam.

A little danger for Dean was never anything that would make him wet his pants, but anything towards Sam made him blow smoke out of his ears. A lot of people learned after the corporation had targeted him to not go for the brother. Sure, he had been targeted before but never again was Sam being targeted also. Dean could live with that, could live with his life being in danger as long as he knew Sam was safe.

His little trip down memory lane made the stairs up to his apartment seem shorter, because suddenly he was in front of the awfully painted, white door. He took his keys out and unlocked it, wrestling with getting the damn thing open.

Once it finally gave way and swung open, Dean was through the threshold. "Sam?" Dean called out, looking around the apartment as he closed the door behind him and set the bag down. There was no answer, so Dean tried again.

"Sam? I'm home!" He yelled, praying for an answer. When after a few moments of silence, Dean went to search for him. The kitchen and living room were both empty, no sign of Sam or a note. He pushed the door open to Sam's room and saw a giant on the floor with a headset on.

He breathed a sigh of relief and went to stand over him. He nudged Sam with his foot and put both hands on his hips, trying to look menacing. When Sam finally took off his headset and looked up to see his brother, his face broke out into a toothy grin.

"Dammit, Sam, answer me when I call you." Dean knew he sounded irritated, but he couldn't help the constant fear that Sam would be targeted again. Sam only smiled more and held up his controller, "Sorry, playing a game."

Dean sighed and took a seat next to Sam on the floor. "Yeah, yeah, you and your damn toy. Want food? I'm gonna make dinner in a second." Sam nodded, once again engrossed in the screen in front of him. Dean waited for more of a response, but when it was obvious he wasn't going to get one, he rose to his feet.

He watched Sam click away on his controller, sticking his tongue out as he concentrated. He hated leaving him behind, but knew it was far too dangerous to take him with. Plus, Zachariah would never allow a civilian to go on a trip like this.

"I'm leaving for a business trip in a few hours, by the way." Dean said, trying to play it off. Sam looked up again, only for a second before he refocused on his game. "How long?" Was his simple response.

"I dunno, few days?" Dean waited for a reaction from Sam, something to imply that he cared but he didn't get anything. "I'll stay at Ash's." He knew Sam hated it when Dean went anywhere on business. He just wanted more of an answer though.

Dean heaved another sigh and left Sam alone to his game. He pulled out a pizza from the freezer and popped it in the oven, setting the timer. Once the pizza was cooking, he went into his own room to begin to pack.

Something felt off, Dean was uneasy the entire time he was packing. He didn't know exactly what it was but only had the feeling of something going wrong. Once Dean was all packed, and the pizza was done, he took a slice into Sam's room.

"Alright, well, I'm leaving now, I'll see you in a few days." Dean sounded like a scared puppy, he hated that he sounded weak but couldn't help it. Something was wrong. "Make sure you lock the door when you leave, and text me when you wake up and go to bed." "Yeah, yeah." Sam said, waving a hand to dismiss Dean.

The sight of Sam nearly ignoring him broke Dean's heart. He flashed back to when Sam was younger and would cling onto Dean whenever he left. He missed that Sam, missed that Sam would miss him.

"Love you." He whispered, not sure if Sam actually heard it. He closed Sam's door and made his way out the front with duffle and bag in hand. He looked back at the stupid white door and had a sense of foreboding.

Whatever this feeling was, Dean would have to get past it, he had a mission to do. He made his way out the front and into the limousine waiting for him. He watched the apartment fade away into the distance with sad eyes.

It would only be for a few days, Dean kept telling himself, but he's not sure even he believed that. Whatever was going to happen in Rhike, Dean was sure he was prepared for it. There was nothing left to do now except enjoy the ride.


	2. Chapter 2

The plane ride was nothing to write home about, mostly Dean just slept. He had had enough of the plane rocking up and down and decided it was time to be out like a light. He knew the flight was somewhat long, upwards of 5 hours depending on the weather.

He was only just waking up when the plane's wheels touched down. Dean took a moment to stretch in his seat and look at his surroundings. Outside, it was covered in snow, with gray skies and leafless trees.

The interior of the plane made Dean feel like a stuck-up government junkie. Someone who should be wearing tight suits and reading glasses at all times. Luckily he only had the suits, and felt a little more comfortable that he wasn't a government minion. Sure, he worked for them sometimes, but mostly he was just contracted.

And damn, he was the best, so of course the government hired the best, right? The plane he was on was a small private jet, something the President would be seen getting out of. Everything was gold-plated and expensive looking, even the shot glasses sitting on the table. The chairs were far too squishy and he was offered some type of alcohol every 5 minutes.

He usually enjoyed his alcohol, but right now he had to focus on his mission. Maybe after he was settled in he would walk around the city and see what they had to offer for entertainment. He rose from his seat, waving off another attendant coming to ask him if he needed a drink.

Right now, he just needed his feet to feel solid ground. And, boy, was it a comfortable feeling when Dean descended the stair case and felt the cold, frozen ground beneath him. Yeah, it was cold as hell, but it was a lot better than that death trap of a flying thing. Nobody was safe in planes, nobody.

He let a butler type of dude take his duffle bag and lead him to a car. Bumping his head while getting into the car, he grumbled and shifted in his less comfortable seat. The ride to the hotel only took a few minutes but Dean was cramped in the back the entire time. Finally, the car stopped for good, and Dean let himself onto the street so that he was standing in front of Sante Lee Hotel. With duffel and sniper bag in hand, he pushed open the door.

An actual butler this time took his duffel and loaded it onto one of those trolley things. Dean always wanted to ride those when he was little, but never got the chance due to only ever staying in motels. He thanked the man and checked in at the front desk.

Room 542.

He was almost neighbors with Novak. He would have to be careful, in order to avoid rousing his suspicions. He took the key card from the busty brunette in front of him and threw a smile her way. He carried his bag and pulled the trolley to the elevator, hitting the number 5 button once he was inside.

The elevator music was absolutely horrendous. It was a weird mix between country and pop, but had a splash of Crathian thrown in. It was almost like the writer's thought 'hmm what is the most annoying thing we can come up with.'

Before long though, Dean was let out into an empty hallway. He left the trolley in the elevator, not quite sure what to do with it, and shouldered his duffle. Counting the numbers on the doors, he finally stood in front of his own. He slipped in the key card to the slot and waited for a green light to flash at him.

The green light appeared soon enough, and he let himself into his room. It was honestly nothing special, white comforters, white walls, white everything. He wished they at least had stuck with the 80s theme the lobby seemed to have. Dean set his bag on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room and continued his search. There was nothing in the fridge or the cabinets.

This was boring as hell; no way Dean would stay cooped up in here for two days. Dean slipped his room key into his wallet and headed out his door again. Checking to make sure it was locked, Dean made his way to the stairs. No way in hell was he going to listen to that awful music again

He pushed through a side door and was welcomed by the loud noises and bright lights of the city. He took a moment to look around, looking for some place close he could hopefully get a few beers. Hell, maybe if he was lucky he could even bring home some entertainment for the night.

He found a place nearby the hotel, called the 'Black Lagoon' and hoped it would live up to its really fucking weird name. Mermaid names like that usually mean stripper joints, which also meant booze and babes.

Once through the door, he was immediately hit with the smell of weed, alcohol, and cheap cologne. Perfect, just what the doctor ordered. He waltzed to the bar, raising a finger to get the bartender's attention.

The attractive man, slightly too short for Dean's taste, flashed a smile and leaned onto the bar. He batted his eyelashes at Dean and asked what he wanted with a long northern drawl. It was weird for Dean to hear northern accents; he was so used to his own southern.

After the moment of surprise passed, Dean ordered whiskey and turned around to watch the crowd. A lot of interesting people were out tonight, it seems, because there were a lot of couples grinding on the dance floor.

It must've been some masquerade night because a lot of the guests were wearing masks. He turned back to the bartender and winked at the blonde man, "Any chance you have an extra mask laying around?" He did his best to let his southern accent shine through.

The man pursed his lips in fake thought, tapping his chin before his eyes brightened. He pulled out a mask from under the counter and handed it to Dean. Perfect. It was a feather-filled disaster of a mask.

Blue and purple feathers looked to be haphazardly glued onto the framework. There looked to be about a pound of glitter caked around the edges of the eyes and nose. It covered almost his entire face, however, save for his eyes and mouth. His nose was slightly open, not quite showing, but allowing enough air to come through.

At least nobody would recognize him, he thought. He nodded his thanks to the bartender and slid it over his face. He downed his entire drink, leaving the cup on the bar, before going to mingle with the crowd.

As he walked through, he grabbed some of the girls' hips and was groped a little himself. Nobody was quite to interesting enough for him to stop however, so he continued on his way. After roaming the groups for a little while, Dean got bored with himself and took a seat near a lounging area.

He was sitting in a loveseat, but a few chairs over, a couple was making out all over a couch. He ignored them, favoring scanning the crowds for a possible hookup. It was hard to tell who was attractive though, with the masks.

He was content listening to the booming music and watching the bodies mingle when suddenly a figure blocked his vision. He looked up and saw bright green feathers. The mask the man was wearing was beautifully made, looking far too professional for a joint like this.

It showed the man's high cheek bones and full pink lips. It wasn't until Dean looked up into the blue eyes that he was interested enough to pursue. Apparently his mind was set on blue eyes lately, because he rose and followed the man who was beckoning him with a finger.

God, he didn't even know who it was, but isn't that the fun part? They made their way to an empty hallway before Dean saw his chance. He grabbed a handful of the man's hair and pushed him against the wall. Immediately, Dean was on him, the other hand coming to stroke at his side.

Dean watched the pink lips break out into a smile, and that was all it took for Dean to rush forward and kiss the man in front of him. His lips broke apart, his own tongue sliding against the man's lips, begging for entry.

Once his lips gave way, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and began exploring. He was completely engrossed in the feel of the mouth on his, he barely noticed a hand come to grip his hip. That was, until positions flip and suddenly he's the one pressed against the wall being kissed for dear life.

Hands flew everywhere, searching each other's body, trying to find skin. Dean dragged his tongue along the roof of the man's mouth as his thumbs hooked into the pants and pulled him impossibly closer.

A hand came to grip Dean's hair, yanking slightly until he tipped his chin upwards. Once his head was far enough up, their lips broke contact and the man latched onto his neck. They still had their masks on, and Dean kept getting tickled by the feathers, but he didn't give one shit.

He focused solely on the mouth that was caressing his neck. The mouth kept dipping down lower, and his shirt was pulled down to allow access to his collar bone. Once enough was showing, the man began to nip softly at the bone.

Dean let out an embarrassing whine, his knees going weak. He pulled the man off of him and pulled him towards one of the empty rooms. The handle was slippery in Dean's hand, as he struggled with it to try and get it open.

When the door finally swung open, both men crashed into the room and saw two dudes smoking a bong in the corner. Dean opened his mouth, about to tell them to leave when a voice from behind him spoke.

"Out. Now." It commanded, voice strong and sure. The two guys grabbed their shit and bolted from the room, not wanting to stay another minute. The man's breath down Dean's back gave him chills, and he leaned against the man, his head falling back onto the other's shoulder.

Once again, the man went caressed Dean's neck with his lips, one hand coming to hold the other side of his head. Dean allowed it for a moment, before he turned and lifted the man up and against the door.

He held the man steadily by his knees, pressing him against the door as he leaned in for a kiss. The man, obviously surprised by the sudden change, wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and squeezed.

Dean let his hands wander up to the man's ass once he knew the man could hold himself up. He let his fingers trail across the man's pants, dipping into his underwear to caress his tailbone. It was an awkward position, but Dean knew if he switched now he would give up control to the man.

And no way was he bottoming for this dude.

A hand came in between them, and palmed at Dean's erection. Dean leaned forward even more, breaking the kiss and moaning against the man's neck. He rubbed himself against the firm hand, breathing hotly into the wet skin.

The sound of his own zipper was enough to spur Dean into action once more. One of his hands left the guy's ass, and came to unzip the guy's pants. It was a bit of awkward fumbling before both of them had each other's dicks in their hand.

The stroking started almost immediately, and it was almost like a race to see who could get the other to come first. Dean used all of his tricks, pressing against the slit, rubbing the vein, twisting his hand. And to be honest, he would have gotten off just at the sight of the man in front of him.

All Dean could see where black eyes, pupils expanded with lust, pink cheeks and bright red lips just barely open. He looked completely blissed out, and it was enough to make Dean rock into the hand that was holding him. He groaned as a warning of his own release coming soon and fell forward against the man, forehead to forehead.

Usually he wasn't one for so much intimacy with just a hookup, but it felt right with this guy. Dean stared into the black eyes, barely a sliver of blue showing, as he rocked himself into the hand. He panted against the man's cheek, teeth catching every once in a while against the man's sharp cheekbone.

With a twist of the man's hand, Dean was coming all over that same hand, moaning into the guy's cheek. It seemed to go on forever, rocking slightly in the hand as warm come, both his and the man's soaked through their clothes.

Once Dean had regained conscious thought, he carefully let the man down onto his feet, his own legs quite wobbly. He backed away a little from the man, giving them both some room to catch their breath.

As soon as Dean thought he was steady enough to walk, he wandered into the bathroom and wet a washcloth. He brought it out, ready for awkward conversations, only to find the room empty.

The man had left Dean alone, bolting as soon as he had the chance. And damn, if that wasn't a shot to the ego. He huffed a breath, bringing the washcloth to his own clothes and cleaning the drying come from them.

He threw the washcloth back into the bathroom, and made his exit from the club. Honestly, he was exhausted, and was ready to hit the hay in his hotel room. He crossed the street, only barely remembering to take off the mask before entering the lobby.

He smiled at the receptionist, not returning her flirting smiles, and made his way upstairs. He looked down the hall, and saw barely the wisp of a trench coat disappear into room 549. Damn, Novak must have just entered the lobby right before he had.

Unlocking his room, he let out a heavy sigh and tore off his clothes. He fell into bed, letting the world fade into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke up the next morning with a sense of purpose. Today would be the day he took out Novak. Actually what time was it? Dean rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the clock that was sitting on his nightstand.

1:30 AM.

Shit man, Dean didn't want to be awake at this time. Dean groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed. Time to get to work.

Dean didn't take his time getting ready, all he did was take a quick shower, run his fingers through his hair and brushed his teeth before he was out the door. He avoided the couple of kids roaming the halls and made his way to the first floor. He waved awkwardly at the doorman; who in turn tipped his hat.

A tall building was chosen for this adventure, since Novak's room was higher up. It was an office building, the roof being perfectly abandoned. This would be perfect.

Dean was positioned on the roof, blanket laid out, sniper set up, head piece in. Now all to do was to wait for Novak to show his face. The picture Zachariah sent him was set up next to the scope on the wall.

He took a moment to study the picture, watching the room for movement out of the corner of his eye. He had to say though, Novak had it all going on. He had these really fucking blue eyes and this permanent five-o-clock shadow. The whole 'CEO/Accountant' thing was incredibly hot.

He could imagine Novak up on a stage dressed up in his trench coat dancing around and slowly sliding each article off. And, okay, damn creeper that is no way to think about the man you are about to kill. Dean shook his thoughts from his head and refocused onto the building in front of him.

So far, there was no movement, it seemed like the good CEO was not home at the moment. That was fine though, Dean could wait. He settled into his position on his stomach, hands on the gun, eye against the scope. He would be ready for Novak as soon as the man showed his face.

A sudden crackling caught Dean's attention, and he listened carefully to what Zachariah was about to say. "Any sign of him, yet?" Dean could tell he had been drinking, his words slightly slurred. Wasn't any of his business though, so he just said a quick, "No, sir." And left it at that.

He looked around the room again, trying to find any sign of Novak in the room. "Alright, well keep at it, boy." Came the response on the other end. He shook his head internally at Zachariah's level of unprofessionalism as he waited.

It took hours for something to happen in the room, and immediately Dean was in full alert mode and ready to shoot. Once he saw it was only a maid coming to clean an already clean room, he relaxed again. It was strange that Novak wasn't in his room, he thought the CEO would have been there this early in the morning.

It was nearly 7am and Dean has been out here for almost 5 hours. He wasn't tired, but he could tell something was about to go wrong. He watched the maid do her usual routine idly when he felt movement from his side.

Dean didn't turn immediately, knowing it could be two things. One, a scared worker wondering why a sniper was on the building. Or two, a police who has come here to scout out why there was someone here.

The click of a gun warned Dean, who forced himself to go completely still. Nothing was said as Dean kept his finger off of the trigger. Of course, it was at this time that Zachariah decided to check in.

"Anything, yet?" Dean winced inwardly, praying the person had not heard that. But, considering how quiet it was on this roof, the chances were good that everything was heard. Dean did nothing, not wanting to say something in case the person behind him spooked and shot.

A nudge on his foot told him to answer, and he replied with a rough voice, "No, sir, nothing." Zachariah would never know there was something wrong with Dean, not caring enough to listen to the strain of his voice. He only prayed that the idiot above him was smart enough not to shoot at a trained sniper.

"Well, when you find that Novak bastard, put 'em down." This time, Dean actually did wince, hoping the name wouldn't set anything into motion. Of course, with Dean's luck, it did. Cold fingers groped Dean's head until the earpiece came loose and was stripped from him. He knew the man above him, based on the rough fingers, was listening to what Zachariah was saying.

"Man, that dickwad, he fucked me over he did. Man. I wish I was the one who got to put a bullet in his head, but lucky for you I guess." Dean could tell there was no indication that Zachariah was going to stop soon.

Dean watched hopelessly as his headpiece was thrown over the edge of the building. Once it was out of sight, a rough voice spoke, "Hands up." Dean rose his hands as slowly as possible, treating the situation like he was with a tiger.

There was no way the man was a worker; nobody would just carry a gun around willy-nilly like that. That left a police officer, and honestly that didn't bode well for Dean. He hated being locked up for a night, only to be apologized to because of a simple misunderstanding. It would waste his time and the departments money.

Once his hands were over his head, two hands came around and gripped his wrists. Before anything could happen though, Dean withdrew one and threw it backwards, connecting with something hard. A strong arm came to surround him, and he bucked backwards, throwing his head back in hopes of hitting the guys nose.

No such luck, however, as Dean was held against the ground, one knee on his back. With one hand securing both of his, the man behind him pulled a zip tie from his pocket and fastened Dean to a pole nearby. Zip ties meant not a police officer, so who was he?

He was at an awkward angle, so Dean did his best to shift himself until he was more comfortable and could look at who he was facing. He took a moment to assess his surroundings before he fully looked up at the guy. First thing he saw was a trench coat, next was a blue tie, and then stubble.

And shit, blue eyes. Of course this had to happen to Dean, who else would it happen to? He was about to be captured by Novak, the man he is supposed to kill. Just his luck. He let out a soft groan when he realized who it was with him on the roof.

He let his head go slack, leaning against the pole and looking up at the gray sky. Apparently, Novak didn't like that though, because strong fingers were forcing Dean's jaw down. He was faced once again with bright blue eyes. Everything stopped, it seemed like the world around him just suddenly ceased to exist.

All he could take in was the man in front of him, Castiel Novak. He studied every inch of the face in front of his, hoping to burn it into his memory. Strong jaw line, chapped lips, sharp nose, dark messy brown hair. He looked just like the picture, but even better up close.

And seriously, Dean shouldn't be thinking about how good he looked, rather how he was going to escape this certain situation. After what seemed like hours of staring at Dean, Novak finally spoke, "So, I suppose you are here to kill me?"

Dean nodded his response, not quite sure what else to do. There wasn't exactly a manual about what to do when you get captured at sniper training course. Sure, they taught you how not to spill information, but what about situations like this? This was going to be a shit-show; Dean could already tell.

"Well, I think that would put a damper on things, wouldn't you say?" Castiel settled over Dean's legs, straddling him. It made Dean quite uncomfortable, but probably not as uncomfortable as he should have been.

The trench coat was sprawled out behind him, covering the tops of Dean's feet like a blanket. Castiel's neck was shone, his tie and suit loose around it. If Dean had a knife, it would be the perfect opportunity to slit his throat.

Sadly, though, his hands were bound and the man on top of him was studying his reactions. Dean knew he must look pathetic, hands tied behind him, leather jacket open and showing a plaid shirt and a simple tee. No one is usually supposed to see him when he's 'working' so he could always wear what he wanted.

"Hmm… Tell me your name." Castiel commanded, his voice filling Dean's ears like thunder. Dean's eyes squeezed shut, willing himself not to obey the command. His cheeks were pinched though, and surprise forced his eyes open.

Castiel dipped his chin and looked up at him through his lashes, "Now, don't hide like that kitten." Kitten? What the fuck? 'Might as well get it over with.' Dean thought, trying to calm his breathing down.

"Dean." Castiel smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Now, that wasn't so hard was it?" Castiel let go of Dean's cheek and stood up abruptly. He walked over to the sniper, and bent down to grab the gun.

Castiel's focus was grabbed by his own picture, however, that was now lopsided against the wall. He made another 'hmm'ing sound, and picked it up. He fingered the corners as he studied the image of himself.

"Not a very good picture, is it?" He asked, turning so Dean could see. Castiel let out a sigh, dropping the picture and letting it flutter to the ground near Dean's feet. He walked back over to Dean, kneeling casually next to him this time.

"Who do you work for, Dean?" Dean knew he couldn't give a name, so he tried to think of something vague that would satisfy Castiel's answer. All he could come up with, though, was government, and that would lead straight to Zachariah.

Instead, he remained silent, watching Castiel's frown get steadily deeper. The man in front of him dramatically fell across Dean's legs, and Dean was forced to watch. Castiel hid his face with one of his arms, the other being a cushion from Dean's calves. He could tell Castiel was moping, trying to throw Dean off.

He would not be moved, however, and remained quiet. Once Castiel realized Dean would not speak, he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. "Well, if you won't talk now, I guess I'll just have to make you talk. Let's take a walk Dean-o."

Before Dean could figure out what exactly that meant, probably something with torture, his vision blackened completely. An intense pain blossomed on the right side of his head, where Castiel had knocked him with the butt of the gun. He was out like a light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yo this is all smut**

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The first thing Dean felt was cool silk sheets under his body, rubbing against him with soft caresses. He was drowsy, not quite awake but he was somewhat aware of what was around him. Everything was silent, only the rustling of the silk could be heard. His body was heavy and uncooperative.

A soft finger trailed up his calf, tracing the outline of his strained muscle. Dean jerked his hands, but he found them bound above his head. He jerked them again against the chains that held them, he was bound by handcuffs. _What the hell?_ His head swayed unresponsively, nothing he could do would make it cooperate.

Twitching his legs, Dean tried to move away from the finger that continued its path up his thigh. Dean's back hurt with the way he was sitting, almost like he was being crucified on a bed of silk sheets. It was weird, being in this position and so vulnerable. He had no idea what had happened, but he remembered meeting Castiel.

The last thing he remembered was being straddled by him before everything went black. He was hit, he thought absently, if the growing pain at the back of his head was any indication. A groan escaped his lips without Dean's permission and a chuckle could be heard next to Dean's hips.

Guess it was time to open his eyes. Prying his sleep-crusted eyes open, he looked wildly around the room. It was a very crude room, concrete walls, king sized bed, and nothing else. The silk sheets that were surrounding Dean's naked body (yes naked) were a deep crimson color. There was a body curled around Dean's lower half too.

He couldn't see much of who it was, all he could see was a mess of black hair and the soft skin of a back. The man's face was curled into Dean's hip, and he kept taking deep breaths like he was breathing in Dean's scent. As much as he wouldn't like to admit it, the combination of silk sheets and soft skin around him was very erotic.

His dick twitched in interest when a finger that he had honestly forgotten about trailed further up his thigh. The stroking continued up to where Dean's hip and thigh connected. The finger absently ran across Dean's warm skin, leaving shocks of pleasure in its wake. Dean groaned again, this time for a very different reason, and his hips bucked up a little wildly.

A puff of warm breath against Dean's hips made him buck lightly again, looking for something to relieve the growing pressure in his groin. His eyes rolled back into his head when a curious hand roamed across his dick. The pleasure that was spreading throughout Dean's body was phenomenal. Sparks traveled throughout his every nerve, lighting the ends with passion.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Dean's eyes opened again when the hand was removed from him. He looked down at the man that was next to him and found bright blue eyes looking back up at him. Shit. Castiel Novak was the man that was at his side, curled around him. Dean groaned his displeasure and shifted his body away from the psychopath.

"Kitty, that isn't very nice." Castiel tsked in annoyance and pulled Dean's body towards him. He had no choice but to go along with it, he couldn't resist it. Castiel pressed an open mouth kiss to Dean's hip. His body jerked suddenly, flinching away from the man. This was crazy, he was being cuddled by a crazy person.

A gentle bite to Dean's left hipbone drew his attention back to Castiel. An absurd sucking sound filled the quiet room, Dean's skin getting pulled into Castiel's mouth. His head fell back against the wall, eyes rolling back into his head and hips rolling a little. It went on for some time, and Dean could feel himself bruising from it. A tongue flicked out to lick at the skin that was pressed against his mouth. His palm ran up Dean's stomach, pressing gently into the strong muscle.

Castiel let go of Dean, nosing at the bruise he had made against his hip. He blew cold air over it, causing Dean to break out with goose pumps. It was crazy how much effect Castiel had on his body, the simplest of touches could elicit such a response from him. He pulled at the cuffs around his wrists, pushing his stomach up into Castiel's hand. Dean let out a low groan, shifting his body continuously.

A deep chuckle resonated throughout Dean's body as Castiel laughed. Dean shifts his head back down to stare down at the man. Blue eyes found his again and they locked eyes as Castiel crawled up Dean's body. He situated himself over Dean, straddling his upper legs. They kept each other's eyes, Castiel resting both hands on his trap muscles. The man on top squeezed the firm muscle in his hands and rolled his hips down, his briefs catching. An excited intake of breath sounded from his lips, as he gripped the hair at the base of Dean's neck.

Dean could feel the other man's eyes on him, watching with a subtle interest as his thumb tweaked a nipple. A gasp fell from Dean's lips, mouth slipping open as his breathing picked up. "S-stop." Dean breathed out, trying to pull his body away from Castiel's strong hands. "No." Was Castiel's strong response, hands clamping down on Dean's waist to stop him from moving.

Pulling at the cuffs, Dean tried to pull himself up and away from Castiel. However, being sat on kind of ruined whatever plan he had. Castiel slid his hands up from where he was bruising Dean's hips to the back of Dean's head. Not so gently, he scratched and pulled at the short hairs on his skull. Dean's eyes closed, the pain quickly turning into pleasure when Castiel smoothed over the hair. With his hands, Dean's head was tipped sideways, allowing Castiel to nuzzle into his cheek.

With a deep inhale, Castiel pushed into Dean's neck. He paused for a beat, before licking a stripe up Dean's face. The man flinched, pulling away from the mouth that was tonguing his lips. Dean squeezed his lips shut, trying not let Castiel into his mouth. A hand twisted and pulled at Dean's left nipple, causing him to gasp in surprise.

Castiel took the chance to lick into Dean's mouth, rolling his hips downward as he pressed into Dean. Gasping in arousal, Dean pushed up into Castiel, yanking on the cuffs. With another press of skin on skin, arousal took over for Dean, hot sparks of lust running through his veins. He was desperate for touch, no longer caring that this was a psychopath on top of him. Whatever he could do to get some relief was good enough for him.

Bucking up again, Dean curled his toes into the sheets below him. He steadied himself, bringing his knees up a little so he could better push into Castiel. He bucked again, Castiel gasping at the sudden change of compliancy. Castiel looked up at the ceiling, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he pressed his clothed cock against Deans. He looked back down at Dean, watching the green eyes continue to dilate slightly.

A broken moan fell freely from Dean's lips as he stared into the blue eyes above him. Castiel looked at him curiously for a moment more before he pressed forward, slotting his lips with Dean. Closing his eyes, Dean pressed up into the kiss, mouth opening for Castiel's tongue. They took a moment, lips shifting and tongues sliding together sensually.

One of Castiel's hand slipped from its place on Dean's skull to in between their bodies. He traced the dip in Dean's hips, leaving a burn trail in its path. Twitching again with unabashed interest, Dean groaned, mouth falling away from Castiel's. "Open your eyes." A gravelly voice said above him, and Dean forced him to look up at the man. Castiel smiled smugly, watching for Dean's reaction when he finally curled a hand around Dean's hard member.

A gasp punched through Dean, his mouth falling open in surprise as he bucked into the hand curled firmly around him. Castiel looked down between their bodies, watching with interest as he slid his hands up and down the velvety skin. His thumb pressed gently against the thick vein, watching as it twitched in his hand and a bead of precome leaked from the top.

"C-caaass." Dean moaned out, bucking his hips lightly again. His mouth gaped open, his head against the wall as he yanked on his cuffs again. Castiel smiled down at him, bringing his other hand to pull down the cloth still covering his waist. Once the clothing was pulled down enough to let his cock spring free, he began to tug on the shaft. He rolled his hip forward, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks.

The sliding of their skins together was like heaven to Dean. His head fell back again, thudding against the concrete wall. His breaths were coming fast and unevenly now. He pushed his hips up into Castiel, forcing amazing friction on both of their cocks. They groaned in unison, Castiel's head falling forward to rest on Dean's. His hand slicked up, thumb pressing the head of Dean's.

Dean moaned again, hips rolling slightly feet pushing him up into Castiel. The man above him fell forward even more, his hand that wasn't currently being used caught himself against the wall. The forward motion of Castiel caused their dicks to slide together, warm skin pushing together.

Tension built in Dean's body, his skin tingling and body quivering. He pulled on his chains, lifting himself off the bed slightly to push into Castiel's hand. A thumb that definitely did not belong to him pressed behind Dean's balls, stroking upwards. The pleasure that coursed through Dean's veins electric, causing him whine lowly and tense even more.

His orgasm was building; he could feel it as Castiel sped up the soft stroking. He inhaled shakily, trying to stave off what he knew would be coming soon. Castiel looked up from where he was watching his hand working and saw Dean struggling to maintain a grip. With a quark of the lips, he pulled his hand away, stopping the amazing feeling that was surrounding Dean. The man groaned in annoyance, his body shifting in search for some friction.

Castiel pulled away completely though, moving once again down Dean's body. A harsh nip at Dean's abs caused a gasp to fall from his lips, his eyes opening to watch the blue-eyed man. Once Castiel had his attention, he continued his path downwards, wet kisses and bruising bites following him. Positioned now directly over Dean's straining cock, Castiel looked down at it with fascination.

He flicked his eyes up to catch Dean's before looking back down and licking a long stripe up the shaft. Dean gasped in arousal, head falling forward and black eyes hooded. Castiel took his time working his way up, tonguing the head when he reached it. He looked up again, staring at Dean as he sucked the head into his mouth. Hallowing out his cheeks, he lowered himself, tongue stroking the skin.

Dean was completely blind-sided by the orgasm that slammed into him with a force of a thousand trains. Air left his lungs as he rode his high, come spurting from his dick. Castiel, mouth still wrapped around him, swallowed around what was being given to him. A groan around Dean's cock sent shivers up his spine and he opened weary eyes to see Castiel stroking himself. He groaned at the sight, softening cock giving another spurt.

Pulling off with an absurd pop, Castiel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at Dean. He moved upwards again, situating himself on Dean's lap and pushing his hips forward. Dean could clearly see the still hard cock in Castiel's hand, as he languidly stroked it. He looked up again, unsure of what to do when a hand came to his cheek. Castiel's thumb slipped inside his mouth, pressing his tongue down and opening his jaw.

Castiel stood up then, and bent his knees enough so that his crotch was in Dean's face. Dean stared at the cock in front of him and licked his lips; he so desperately wanted a taste. He leaned forward as much as the cuffs would allow him and nuzzled into the hairs at the base of the shaft. He pressed a small kiss to it, watching as it jumped with arousal.

He looked up at Castiel, and saw the man staring down with red cheeks and a gaping mouth. Dean smiled up at him, leaning forward more to wrap his mouth around the shaft. He sucked at the side, closing his eyes when the velvety skin slipped into his mouth. He pulled off, letting his teeth catch at the side of the shaft. Castiel hissed at that, and slid a hand into Dean's hair. He pulled harshly, making Dean's held tilt back and the green-eyed man stare up at him.

Dean smiled innocently, watching as Castiel fought a battle inside his head. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before looking back down at Dean. With his hand, he pulled open his mouth again and smiled as Dean stared up at him. Without further ado, Castiel slipped his cock in between Dean's lips, groaning out as he was encased by the warm meet.

A grunt vibrated from Dean's mouth as he tried his best to relax and swallow around Castiel. He leaned back against the wall, trying to pull away from Castiel as he continued to push forward. Dean swallowed again, head catching at the back of his throat, causing Castiel's orgasm to hit. He pushed forward one more time, eyes squeezed shut and hand gripping Dean's hair roughly. His hips rolled, forcing Dean to swallow Castiel's come.

After a few moments and big inhale, Castiel pulled away and fell to his knee's on Dean. They stared at each other, Dean becoming self-conscious at the thought of what he just did. "Oh god." He whispered out, pulling away and turning his face to hide it from Castiel. The other man only smiled at him, glad that Dean was compliant during it. Soon enough, Dean wouldn't even need to be in hand cuffs.

A finger stroked Dean's cheekbone, and he turned back to look at Castiel. The man had basically sexed him out of his mind, but no way was he giving up a fight. He smiled sweetly at the blue-eyed man and leaned forward for a kiss. Castiel smiled at that, opening his mouth to slip his tongue into Deans. Dean harshly bit down once the tongue was inside his mouth.

Pain laced up Castiel's head, and he pulled back, hands pushing at Dean's pecs. Castiel stared at him in surprise, one hand coming up to touch his swelling tongue. He lowered his hands and frowned at Dean, cocking his head. "Why did you do that, kitty?" Dean rolled his eyes at the pet name, and turned away from Castiel again.

Castiel huffed in annoyance, mad that he hadn't made as much progress as he thought he had. He left Dean's lap, standing next to the bed and staring down at him. He watched Dean for a moment, before reaching out the stroke his cheek and jaw again. Dean jerked at the feeling and pulled away, glaring up at Castiel.

"Guess kitty doesn't wanna play." Castiel said in an obviously fake sad voice, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. Dean huffed and turned away, choosing not to answer. Castiel watched him for a moment longer before pulling up his pants and walking towards the door. Dean watched as Castiel swung his hips exaggeratedly. He turned at the door, holding it open as he looked back at Dean.

"I'll be back to play in a little bit, kitty." He said in a low voice, winking at Dean before walking out. The slam of the door filled the room with sound, before everything went silent. Dean sat there for a moment, hands still bound above him, thinking. There was no way he was going to escape from this, it was obvious Castiel had everything planned out.

Maybe Dean could feign compliancy so that he would be given more freedom and could escape that way? But what if Castiel saw past that and locked him up for good? There was no good way out of this. He looked up at the cuffs, noticing for the first time that they were slightly rusted. He pulled on them, watching to see if they gave at all.

No such luck, the links themselves were sturdy enough that Dean couldn't break a weak one. He studied the cuff bound to his left hand. The metal was thick and solid, no chance of bending or breaking that either. It seemed to be held together by a lock, which meant there has to be a key.

Dean looked around the room again, trying to see if he missed something the first time. Sadly, the room was mostly bear, only the bed pushed against one wall. He kicked at the silk sheets, feeling them slide off the bed. Great, now he had nothing to cover himself if someone walked in.

Leaning back against the wall, his head hit it with a soft thud. Dean closed his eyes, trying to think of a solution, but he was coming up empty. What would Sammy do? Is he okay? Does he know something is wrong? Deans chest tightened with worry as he thought about his little nerd brother. Determination set in and he opened his eyes to stare at the door. He would get out of this. He had to. For his brother's sake.


End file.
